


Buckaroo Banzai and the Nuclear Christmas

by Mojave Dragonfly (Dragonfly)



Category: Buckaroo Banzai - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Podfic Welcome, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2005, recipient:swtalmnd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonfly/pseuds/Mojave%20Dragonfly





	Buckaroo Banzai and the Nuclear Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swtalmnd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/gifts).



Buckaroo Banzai and the Nuclear Christmas

Perfect Tommy sped west along the dark highway, enjoying the power, the noise, the  
sheer *speed* of his Harley. Patches of ice, darker than the asphalt, lurked to spring on  
the unwary traveler, making his journey that much more challenging. Tommy was cold -  
most bikers would find a warm car to drive in the dark of December - but Tommy was  
perfect, and didn't mind the cold. About a mile from the Banzai Institute the road rose to  
a crest and he had an unobstructed view of the sky. Unobstructed, that is, except for the  
industrial haze that hid the stars but wasn't thick enough to hide the flying sleigh pulled  
by nine flying reindeer that arced across his path like a shooting star.

Inside the Banzai Institute for Biomedical Engineering and Strategic Information, Penny  
Priddy sat staring out the large lobby window at the frozen Delaware River beyond. On  
the low table before her what looked like a child's construction using a toy of plastic  
globes with tubes protruding and interconnecting, sat abandoned. Across the room Mrs.  
Johnson sat at a desk, doing payroll by the glow of a kaleidoscope lamp. Reno Nevada  
kept her company, sitting nearby and picking out Christmas tunes on a harpsichord.

"She's different," Reno said, tipping his dark head in Penny's direction.

"You can say that again," said Mrs. Johnson, darkly.

"No, I mean, from before. She didn't strike me as the brainy type, you know?" Reno  
referred, of course, to Penny's recent penchant for making molecule models out of  
children's toys, and doodling nonsense formulas on holiday envelopes. Buckaroo had  
awarded her one of the Institute's coveted research fellowships, allowing her to live and  
work at the Institute, with room and board and a $500 monthly stipend. Nobel Laureates  
were on the waiting lists for such an opportunity, and, while no one openly questioned  
Buckaroo's decision, none of the Institute's current inmates saw any meaning in her  
doodles.

"You don't even see what's really weird," Mrs. Johnson said, signing a final check. "Men  
don't notice these things."

"You mean how she's wearing her hair long so she looks even more like Peggy? Oh,  
yeah, we noticed."

Mrs. Johnson shook her head. "You don't get it. How did her hair get that long so fast?  
Your arm's not even healed yet."

"I reckoned it was a wig,"

"I pulled on it yesterday. It's real. No one's hair grows that fast. No one human."

In the state next door, Pennsylvania, in the Coventry shopping mall in Pottstown, a little  
girl sat on Santa's lap. ". . . an' a puppy. Oh, and Santa?" She dropped her voice down  
low, with a guilty look toward her parents. "Can you make all my brother's toys come  
broken?" She looked hopeful.

"No problem," Santa said conspiratorially. "You just keep being a good girl." He looked  
at his helper, a buxom woman in a blue costume trimmed with white fur, wearing a  
snowflake-shaped crown. "Do we have a present for Amber?"

The helper consulted the sign-up sheet on her clipboard, and read the names Amber's  
parents had given. "Oh, yes," she said. "We have a present for Amber." She selected a  
wrapped gift, not from the conspicuous pile of blue-wrapped presents, but from a special  
bag, where gold-wrapped presents were kept. "Here you go, Sweetie."

"Thanks!" said the child as she snatched her present and darted off the platform to join  
her smiling parents. Santa and his helper exchanged knowing looks.

There was an unscheduled rehearsal underway in the bunkhouse when Perfect Tommy  
got in. He could hear the strains of Reno's latest composition, "Uncle Marty's Christmas  
Fifth," even from the garage. He entered the bunkhouse, just bursting with his news, but,  
being perfect, he waited for the guys to finish.

"Tommy, get your sax," said Reno.

"Guys, you aren't going to believe this! I just saw . . ." Tommy hesitated.

Pecos, recently returned from Tibet, looked up from her trap set. "A ghost?" she  
suggested.

"No, I . . . I saw Santa Claus."

Billy laughed, Pecos smiled in disbelief, and New Jersey cocked an eyebrow.

"Really! He flew across the road. Sleigh and reindeer and everything. I saw it."

"I think the song should be 'Uncle Tommy's Christmas Fifth,'" said Pecos. "I hope you  
saved some for us."

"Come with me, Reno. I want to check out World Watch One. He should show up on  
radar."

"Only to a true believer," Reno said. "A child who hasn't lost his innocence. Radar's too  
old and jaded." He winked at Pecos.

New Jersey looked thoughtful. "Maybe if the sleigh were made of metal and pretty good  
sized. Santa and his reindeer wouldn't reflect the electromagnetic energy, but the sleigh  
might. Also, the radar's doppler, so he'd have to be moving pretty fast to show up."

"He was moving *very* fast," Tommy said. "I'm firing up World Watch One. Who's  
with me?"

"What do we need with World Watch One?" came the voice of Buckaroo Banzai from the  
door. In sauntered the man himself, dressed in a black hakama with his father's headband  
around his head.

"Perfect Tommy's had a Santa sighting," Pecos said.

"Buckaroo," Tommy said earnestly. "I saw him with my own eyes. I want to see if the  
radar picked him up."

Billy Travers nodded with mock seriousness. "We should data-link to NORAD  
command. They'll even have a radar record of the last 48 hours."

Perfect Tommy did a little jump, and snapped his fingers at Billy. "Yes! We should  
definitely do that."

Billy and Reno burst out laughing.

Buckaroo frowned and removed his headband in methodical, ritual motions. "Where did  
you see him?"

Perfect Tommy gave Reno and Billy an irritated look. "On the way in. He crossed over  
the road flying north to south. Then he turned west and I lost sight of him."

Buckaroo was now carefully folding the hakama. "Toward Pennsylvania?"

"I guess. I really did see him. Is it possible Santa exists?"

"Nothing real can defeat us and nothing unreal exists." Buckaroo straightened, his  
hakama neatly tucked into a drawer. "Let's get out to the bus. Billy, bring the tapes of  
the Blue Blaze Irregular reports from the Ukraine for the month leading up to April 26.  
I'll go get Penny." He spun gracefully and headed back out the door. Perfect Tommy  
followed.

"Penny?" Pecos asked after he was gone. "Why Penny?"

Reno shrugged. "Why the Ukraine?"

Billy started fingering his way through cases of computer reel-to-reel tapes. "Why April  
26?"

New Jersey closed the cover on the piano and returned his kazoo to its case. "April 26,  
the Ukraine . . . I have it."

"What?" chorused the others.

"Chernobyl," he said.

"No way," Pecos breathed.

"Cool!" said Reno.

The little girl, Amber, and her brother tumbled out of the family car into their driveway.  
She trotted into the garage and through the door to the kitchen, clutching her gift from  
Santa. By the time her parents had hauled the day's Christmas shopping into the house  
she had the wrapping off and was working at the surprisingly tough container beneath  
with scissors.

"Careful with that, Honey," said her mother.

Amber pursed her lips and worked harder. The container made a little "pop" sound when  
she finally pierced it. She tore it the rest of the way open. Inside was a doll or statue of a  
bearded gnome with a pointy red hat standing rigid, its arms at its sides. The girl turned  
it over and saw nothing that moved or made noise. She wrinkled her nose.

"It's cute," her mother lied. "You can put it under the tree."

Amber tossed the elf beneath their Christmas tree and never gave it another thought. It  
lay there, abandoned, apparently doing nothing.

The Hong Kong Cavaliers touring bus tooled ominously along Perfect Tommy's dark  
highway, headed west. Inside, console operators sat with headsets on, examining data on  
glowing CRT screens. On one wall was a television set tuned to CNN via one of many  
satellite dishes on top of the bus.

Buckaroo and the gang crowded into the command center. Billy, the technology whiz  
extraordinaire, sat in the hot seat, Buckaroo looking over his shoulder. "So, what's Air  
Defense up to?" Buckaroo asked.

"They do have an AWACS up out of Tinker," Billy said, sounding surprised.

"Any interceptors?"

"Eagle 1 flight out of Langley is returning now, bingo fuel," Billy said, dialing through  
the military UHF radio frequencies. "They've got alert sites north along the eastern  
seaboard on high alert, all the way to Keflavik. They're scrambling Sloe Gin 1 and 2 out  
of Iceland."

"Scrambling them on what?"

"I don't know. I won't know until they're on station and they start giving them vectors."

"Right. Let's put in today's codes so we can hear what AWACS is discussing on secure  
SATCOM."

Perfect Tommy elbowed Reno. "I told you."

Reno shrugged. "So, they've scrambled on something. Could be the usual Soviet milk  
run."

"Those flights go from north to south, not the other way around. I'm telling you, Santa  
was flying back to the North Pole."

Penny Priddy came out of Buckaroo's sleeping quarters at the back of the bus. "Uh,  
guys?" she said, timidly. "You might want to have a look at CNN."

Everyone but Billy turned to face the wall with the TV. Pecos, who was working with  
the BBI reports on a teletype console beneath the TV, reached up to turn up the volume.  
A smiling blonde commentator said, ". . . flooded with calls from concerned residents  
reporting a bearded man in a red suit flying his sleigh over their neighborhoods. He's a  
few days early, wouldn't you say, Bob?"

"Yes, Christie," Bob smiled back. "Perhaps he's just doing an early reconnaissance. Do  
we have any footage of this flying jolly old elf?"

"No, Bob, I'm afraid the only footage of Santa we ever get is this kind." The screen  
showed a busy shopping mall with children and parents in line to speak to Santa.

"Caramba," said Reno.

"I told you," said Perfect Tommy.

"Buckaroo," said Pecos, "I've been all through the BBI reports from the Ukraine last  
April, and there's no mention of Santa Claus."

Buckaroo tipped his head in puzzlement. "I was sure I remembered something about  
sightings of Santa Claus. Did you try Kris Kringle? What's he called in the Ukraine?"

"Father Frost," Penny said. Everyone looked at her. She blushed, but had nothing more  
to say.

Slowly Pecos turned away from her, with a glance at Buckaroo, who nodded at her, and  
keyed in a search for "Father Frost." "Here it is," she said, sounding amazed. "We have  
dozens of reports of Father Frost and his assistant Snowflake Girl giving children in the  
Kiev area gifts last April. They were little elf dolls."

"In April?" asked New Jersey. "Wouldn't we have heard about this?"

"We did hear," Buckaroo said, "from our Blue Blaze Irregulars. But it's not like CNN  
can get reporters into the Ukraine. And the Soviets wouldn't have told anyone anything  
about the Chernobyl nuclear reactor accident if Pecos's satellite radiation detectors hadn't  
picked up the surge."

Pecos nodded, still looking at her data. "Even our BBIs might not have mentioned Father  
Frost except that it was the wrong time of year. And, hey! Get this. There are also  
reports of seeing him flying over the region in a sleigh pulled by three reindeer. The  
sightings all ended after the meltdown."

"Perfect Tommy, you said Santa headed west from the Institute? Due west?"

Tommy considered carefully. "A tiny bit south of west," he said. "Are you thinking  
Three Mile Island?"

"Closer," Buckaroo said.

"Limerick," New Jersey said. "Limerick Nuclear Power Plant. A tiny bit south of west."

Buckaroo nodded. "Penny?" he asked. "Tommy saw nine reindeer. In Kiev, they only  
saw three. Any significance to the three reindeer?"

Penny shrugged. "We've got Rudolph and all that. Father Frost only has three reindeer."

"How do you know all this?" Perfect Tommy asked her.

"I'm sorry," said Penny, and returned to Buckaroo's bedroom.

"Buckaroo," Perfect Tommy said, "tell us what's with her. Please, man."

"Not now," said Buckaroo, his jaw tight. "Rawhide, get on the Marconi . . ." He stopped  
and again there was silence but for the sound of machinery humming and the road  
running beneath them. Everyone looked somewhere else. Somewhere not at Buckaroo.

Buckaroo sighed and leaned heavily against the back of a chair. He looked around at his  
loyal friends, who slowly returned their gazes to him. "All right," he said. Billy removed  
one ear of his headphones.

"Have you guys heard of near-death experiences?"

New Jersey looked intrigued. "Dr. Raymond Moody," he said. "Interviewed patients  
who had died but been resuscitated. Tunnel, white light, you meet all your dead loved  
ones. I met him at a medical conference in Baltimore."

"Yeah, only his patients didn't get very far. They were all turned back before they went  
into the light. That's why they were alive to be interviewed. Penny," Buckaroo glanced  
toward the back of the bus, "was dead. After Lizardo was through with her she was dead  
beyond anything our technology could have brought her back from. She was in the light.  
She doesn't yet talk about it very well, but she *was* the light. Now she's back and she  
knows things. She can do things."

"What kind of things?" asked Pecos.

"I don't know yet. She doesn't really know yet. But I want to give her space and time to  
integrate the experience. She could show us things beyond anything we've imagined."  
Buckaroo looked around at his friends. "Okay?"

"Okay," said Reno. The others nodded.

Perfect Tommy picked up the radio microphone. "Now, what did you want on the  
Marconi?"

Buckaroo smiled. "We need to know if Santa is giving out gifts. We need to get ahold of  
one of those little elf dolls, or whatever it is this time."

Tommy nodded. "Calling all Blue Blaze Irregulars in the eastern Keystone State . . ."

The bus pulled into Pottstown sometime later. Not far away the cooling towers of the  
Limerick Nuclear Power Plant peacefully poured forth their clouds of steam. It wasn't  
easy to find parking for a bus at the Coventry shopping mall two days before Christmas.  
World Watch One was forced to circle after letting the gang out at the front door. Before  
he left, Buckaroo changed out of his Kendo dogi, back in his tiny room. He said to  
Penny, "It's a shopping mall. Would you like a Christmas present?"

Penny thought about it. "None of it's real, anyway."

Buckaroo smiled. "I know, and nothing unreal exists."

Penny frowned. "No, the unreal is very real. It's the real that doesn't exist. I know that  
doesn't make sense, does it?"

"It's all right." Buckaroo dropped a kiss on her forehead. "See you around."

Buckaroo, Pecos, Reno and Perfect Tommy adjusted their jackets to disguise their six-  
shooters, checked each other over for conspicuous lumps and fashion travesties, and thus  
armed and prepared, entered a shopping mall in the Christmas season.

Watching each other's back, they navigated through flashing lights and forests of  
decorated trees. They passed a stage of madrigal singers performing traditional  
Christmas Carols. In the center of the mall sat a jolly Santa on his throne. A long line of  
children and parents snaked around in front of the stage. Helping Santa was a young  
woman in a blue and silver costume with a snowflake crown.

"Let's split up," said Buckaroo. "Remember we need one of each of those gifts. Blue  
Blaze Irregular number 5128 said they come in two colors." He moved forward, circling  
the line, looking for a way to get behind the throne.

"Maybe Perfect Tommy could get in line to talk to Santa," said Reno, grinning.

"You better watch out, Reno," retorted Tommy. "Santa knows when you are sleeping."

"I think it's a good idea," said Pecos. "I'll get in line and pretend my kids are coming. At  
least I'll get up close that way."

Pecos did as she had said, and Reno and Perfect Tommy each took one side of the mall  
and sauntered by the Santa display, watching Buckaroo's back.

Buckaroo blended, ninja-style, into the gift-wrapped cardboard scenery. He watched as  
every child was given a blue-wrapped box after Santa's assistant checked her clipboard.  
For forty minutes he concentrated on giving off thoughts of "I belong here; you don't see  
me, move along, nothing to see here, these aren't the droids you're looking for." Then it  
happened. After consulting her clipboard, Santa's assistant reached, not for the pile of  
blue-wrapped gifts, but for Santa's bag, pulling open the drawstringed top, and extracting  
a gold-wrapped gift.

As soon as she stepped away from the open bag, Buckaroo acted. He pulled out the  
portable radio transponder he'd brought in, and tossed it into the bag at the perfect  
moment to be unobserved by either elf. Unfortunately, concentrating on them, he hadn't  
reckoned on his fans.

"Hey!" called a little boy in the line. "That's Buckaroo Banzai!"

Pecos jumped over a cloth-wrapped chain divider to try to reach the child, but it was too  
late. Other children took up the cry, some consulting the pictures in their Buckaroo  
Banzai comic books.

Santa and his helper looked around, then looked straight back at him. The assistant  
grabbed the bag and she and Santa fled straight into the crowd of parents and kids, which  
parted as best it could to let them pass. Pecos had the first chance at them. Unwilling to  
draw her gun in a crowd of children, she dived at Santa, hooking him by the broad black  
belt, but he shook her off easily and she fell hard on the floor.

"And there's Perfect Tommy!" yelled a little girl. Perfect Tommy came up the sideline,  
chasing after the escaping gift-givers, his gun in his hand, while Reno, on the other side,  
came running from farther back. Now some of the crowd started to cheer as if it were a  
show. To Pecos's surprise, Buckaroo had dived straight into the crowd as well, but he  
paused beside her to help her up. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Get them!"

"Take this," Buckaroo said calmly, handing her one of the blue-wrapped gifts. He  
watched as Reno vanished down the mall's interior, chasing Santa. Perfect Tommy put  
his gun away and joined them to the side of the excited crowd.

"You didn't shoot Santa?" Buckaroo asked, half smiling.

"I couldn't do that," Tommy said. "Maybe Reno will catch them."

Buckaroo nodded and pulled out his radio. "Control, this is Buckaroo. Be on the lookout  
for Santa and an elf, and Reno in pursuit. Assist if possible. Oh, and turn on the RF  
finder. Our bandit is on the move."

"Roger!" came New Jersey's excited voice.

"Now where's the kid who got that last gold gift?" Buckaroo asked. Around them the  
confused crowd went from excited to angry, and mall security were approaching on the  
upper level. Buckaroo trotted back to the stage and stood in front of the throne. "Ladies  
and Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?"

"A mike. He needs a mike," said Pecos, looking toward the carolers. "Perfect Tommy, I  
think you and your gun should take a powder. Here comes the sheriff and his posse."  
The two of them split up: Tommy into hiding, Pecos to heist the Christmas carolers.

Later, World Watch One collected a dejected Reno in the shopping mall parking lot, and  
Billy tapped into the Air Traffic Control network. The transponder in Santa's bag  
squawked a regular mode 3 code, as well as a classified military mode. The military  
mode would make Santa look like a U.S. military craft to Air Defense, hopefully causing  
a delay in any further intercept attempts. Clearly Santa's bag was airborne. Air Traffic  
Control showed the transponder heading north. The bus headed back to the Banzai  
Institute.

"I don't get it," complained Perfect Tommy. "We don't want the military to intercept  
him?"

"All they can do is shoot him down," Buckaroo said. "I want to follow him and find out  
what he's doing. Billy, call ahead and have George prep the Jet Car for flight."

"Uh, Buckaroo," said Reno, "the jet car hasn't been tested for flight, yet."

Buckaroo nodded. "So, it's time."

"Buckaroo," said Pecos, looking up from the clipboard she had been studying. "You're  
right! This is a list of 200 employees of Limerick Nuclear Power Plant. Their kids got  
the gold packages."

Buckaroo turned over the gold package in his hand, looking like he'd never seen a  
Christmas present before. Penny held the blue one. "Can't we open them?" she asked.

"Not until we're in the lab, honey," Pecos said. "We have no idea how these things  
caused Chernobyl."

"The bandit's gone off radar," announced Billy. "North of Hudson Bay. Sloe Gin 1 and 2  
were already bingo and returning to Keflavik. They never got anywhere near him."

"So what was the other bandit?" Perfect Tommy asked. "They can't both be the Santa I  
saw."

Buckaroo shook his head. "We have no way of knowing how many of these Santas are in  
shopping malls near every nuclear power plant. I'm calling the President."

In the Banzai Institute's High Pressure Physics Lab, Professor Hikita peered at his x-ray  
microscope, examining the interior of the gold package. On one side of him lay the blue  
package, already opened. It contained a mass-marketed PEZ dispenser in the shape of a  
reindeer head. The candy came out the reindeer's mouth. Chemical analysis of the candy  
returned the verdict: flavored sugar.

On the other side of Professor Hikita was a watermelon in a vise. Don't ask.

Buckaroo Banzai received Hikita's report via intercom. He was in the Jet Car garage,  
suiting up, as the rest of the Hong Kong Cavaliers sat, stood, or lounged around and  
watched. The gold-wrapped package contained what they had all feared. A little elf doll.  
Hikita had determined that it emitted an odorless gas containing an unknown molecule  
shaped in such a way as to likely affect the human brain. "Sidney," said Buckaroo,  
startling New Jersey with the use of his real name - the name which evoked their shared  
medical history at Columbia P&S, "help the Professor figure out what it does. Super-  
accelerated protons are more his specialty than human chemical responses."

"Will do," said New Jersey. He glanced at Reno, who was rolling his eyes. "I mean, aye  
aye?"

"Willco," said Reno. "Willco, for 'will comply.'"

"Willco," said New Jersey.

"Can I come?" asked Penny timidly.

New Jersey hesitated only a bare fraction, to see if Buckaroo had any opinion on the  
matter. "Sure. You can teach me what you know about the Ukraine," he said, when  
Buckaroo said nothing.

Billy came downstairs with some widget in his hand. "This will locate Santa's  
transponder, just like it was an ELT," he said. He crawled in the front seat and installed  
the thing in an empty cradle in the dash.

Fully suited in a rubber insulating layer against cold and wet, his black nomex (tm) flight  
suit, and a standard U.S. Air Force inflating G-suit, Buckaroo placed himself behind the  
Jet Car, hands on the back. "Let's go, guys," he said. The others except for Billy and  
Penny grouped around the car, and they all rolled it forward, out of the garage, onto a  
specially reinforced VTOL pad on the Institute's grounds. Billy left to take his position  
in World Watch One as Mission Control.

Buckaroo circled the car, prodding, wiggling and testing, his pre-flight checklist in hand.  
Satisfied, he climbed in the pilot's seat, and George approached to help him strap in.  
Perfect Tommy came along.

"Don't embarrass us," he said.

Buckaroo smiled, "Have I ever?"

"Well, there was that time at Artiez, when you were drunk . . ."

"What?" Buckaroo cried. "I can't hear you over the engines!"

Tommy waved him off and he and George backed away. The engines weren't even on.

When all the onlookers were at a safe distance, with ear protection on, Buckaroo began  
the engine start checklist. Two retractable wings grew slowly out from the sides of the  
car. The jet engines canted smartly 90 degrees, to point at the ground. The engines fired  
simultaneously, much to George's relief. If they hadn't, the car would have listed and  
rolled with tremendous force. The roaring sound grew as Buckaroo gave the engines  
more throttle, and slowly, majestically, the Jet Car rose into the air.

George crossed his fingers as Buckaroo reached the most critical phase of flight;  
transition to forward thrust. Still in Vertical TakeOff and Landing mode, Buckaroo  
rotated the Jet Car so the central engine faced well away from any buildings, out toward  
the Delaware River. The central engine lit like the burn from a rocket booster, which is  
what it was, and the Jet Car leaped forward into the night, instantly achieving the lift  
necessary to sustain flight. George whooped, and all the onlookers grinned and slapped  
each other on the back.

Buckaroo guided the Jet Car to the east, staying low in order to keep out of the Terminal  
Control Area, the roar of one rocket booster and two jet engines undoubtedly rattling the  
homes of the people below. He reached ocean and turned north.

"Control, this is HB-88, are you reading my telemetry?" he said.

"Affirmative, HB-88," came Billy's voice. "You're cleared to climb to your cruise  
altitude."

"You're sure?" Buckaroo asked.

"There's nothing in your flight path, boss," Billy said. "Just stay out of the jet routes."

"Roger," Buckaroo said, smiling beneath his oxygen mask. Below him the ocean was an  
inky black, the lights from the coast a distant decoration around the abyss. Above him,  
stretching to beneath his own field of view, arced an immense ceiling of star-studded  
obsidian. He pulled back on the yoke, and climbed into infinity.

He leveled off at 39,000 feet and got down to business. Billy's RF finder worked like  
radio navigation. It had the frequency of Santa's transponder hard coded and would give  
Buckaroo a guiding needle, once it picked it up. Which it wasn't doing, yet. Buckaroo  
relaxed, anticipating a few hours of uneventful flight in the beautiful night. He'd climbed  
through a few layers of clouds, and now plunged through a completely changed world.  
He thought of something Penny had said:

*Nothing here is real to me, now. The most powerful thing there is, is our thoughts.  
Everything is made up of thoughts and all our thoughts create consequences, you know?  
Eventually our thoughts are all the same. I can't explain it, but sometimes I still know . . .  
*

Flying through a formless void, he almost understood her.

After a time he decided he wanted more than his thoughts for company. Well beyond  
line of sight range of World Watch One, he dialed up a satellite frequency.

"Control, this is HB-88, how do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, HB-88," came Billy's reassuring voice. "Any joy?"

"Negative. Have you guys got anything?"

"That's affirmative." Billy sounded excited. "Is it okay to report in the clear?"

Buckaroo considered. Secure SATCOM was a pain in the ass. It never seemed to work  
right. "Go ahead," he said.

New Jersey's voice replied. "Hello?" he said.

Buckaroo shook his head. They would have to work more on Sidney's radio terminology.  
"Go ahead, Sidney; what have you got?"

"Buckaroo, the gas from those elves emitted a high concentration of an alkaloid molecule  
that affects the human brain in very specific ways. Namely, it suppresses the caution  
centers of the occipital lobe. It makes people careless. When it all comes out in the  
wash, I'm betting it will turn out that Chernobyl was caused by a whole bunch of people  
neglecting a whole slew of safety precautions."

Buckaroo thought of the Jet Car. "Sidney, were we exposed?"

"No, it was vacuum packed. The change in pressure when the container was opened  
triggered it."

"Sidney, listen. I need you and the Professor to work on an antidote. I think I can  
convince the President to administer it to workers at every nuclear power plant, but  
you've got to come up with it soon. There's no telling when someone will cause a critical  
accident."

"Buckaroo . . ." Sidney broke in.

"Go ahead."

"Buckaroo, we have an antidote."

"You . . . have one already?"

"Penny. It was Penny. She took one look at the molecule and drew the shape of the  
antidote molecule. The Professor's synthesizing a test batch now."

"That's . . . great, Sidney. Tell her I said good job."

"Buckaroo, when you find them, what are you going to do? You're pretty far from help.  
I don't know if we have any Blue Blaze Irregulars in the Arctic Circle."

"Don't worry, Sidney. It's Santa. What could happen?" The RF finder lit up. "Stand by,  
Sidney, I've got a signal."

Buckaroo checked his position. Sure enough, he was north of the Arctic Circle. The  
signal was strong and from due north. Not magnetic north, true north. He pulled back  
his throttles and started a descent. "Sidney, put Billy back on."

"I'm here, HB-88, what joy?"

"I've got a signal, Control. Are you receiving my telemetry?"

"Affirmative, boss."

Lower and lower flew the Jet Car, breaking through layer after layer of clouds. At  
10,000 feet, Buckaroo broke through a final layer and saw broken ice floes on water  
below. He leveled off, and followed the needle on the radio finder. Now personally  
disoriented, he noticed his onboard compass was behaving oddly as well. Fortunately his  
GPS calmly told him his exact position. Fifty nautical miles from the north pole. Now  
he was over a huge ice sheet that resembled land. And, just ahead, lights.

Lights. Very helpful. Buckaroo circled above a lit complex resembling a huge hubcap,  
selected a level strip and came in for a normal landing. He wasn't sure what effect his  
engines in VTOL mode would have on the terrain below him. He shut down his engines,  
unstrapped himself and climbed out of the jet car.

Beneath his helmet he wore a thermal ski mask. The area around his eyes was the only  
place he felt the killing cold. He groped in the car for his goggles.

Light from the nearby complex brightened. As Buckaroo watched, rotund figures exited  
the building and approached him. He had his guns with him, but they'd be hard to  
manipulate with his nomex (tm) gloves. Nor was he eager to remove his gloves.

Through the blowing snow they came, a dozen or so Santa Clauses. They stopped a few  
yards away and gestured. Unhesitating, Buckaroo walked forward, leaning into the wind.  
The Santa Clauses turned and escorted him to the door they'd come out. No one spoke; it  
would be almost impossible to hear, anyway.

Inside the door was light and blessed warmth. Buckaroo stopped and removed his  
helmet. It had been starting to hurt his ears.

He stood in a corridor, all white and glowing with light. He could see no artificial lights  
anywhere. No doors, no furnishings. The Santas stood around him.

"You're not from Earth," Buckaroo said.

"No," said one of the Santas. Now Buckaroo saw there were more than just Santas in the  
room; there were many Snowflake Girls, as well.

"Are you Lectroids?" he asked.

"No," the "man" said again. "We are castaways. We made an emergency landing on  
your planet when our ship's drive malfunctioned."

Buckaroo shifted his weight. "Why did you destroy the nuclear power plant at  
Chernobyl?"

"To repair the drive, we need immense amounts of power. One of the most accessible  
forms of what we need comes from the output of one of those plants with the shielding  
removed."

"The radiation."

"Yes. We didn't realize it would damage your species and other species on your planet so  
badly."

Buckaroo considered aliens with sufficient technology to create just the right molecule to  
affect the human brain, and decided this was a bald-faced - er, bearded - lie. Still, he  
found it hopeful that they wanted to appear benign to him. It meant they wanted  
something.

"But you're about to do it again."

"Yes. Our repairs are not complete."

"And the Santa Claus disguise?"

"Our research was hurried. We thought the disguise would allow us to fly overhead and  
give gifts without exciting any comment. We have only recently learned that the various  
forms of your Santa Claus are myths."

Buckaroo almost laughed. "You thought Santa was real?"

"We also failed at first to realize that he only appeared at certain times in your planet's  
orbit. A certain time of the year, I mean."

"I knew what you meant. Look, isn't there any other form of energy you can use to fix  
your . . . space drive?"

"Not that we can easily access. We have allowed your approach to our ship so that we  
can ask for your help. You are the only Earth man we know of who might be able to  
help. You can speak to your President and convince him to give us the power we need."

Buckaroo frowned. "How, by melting down our nuclear power plants?"

"Yes."

Now Buckaroo did laugh. "Why would we do that?"

The Santas looked at each other. "As a Christmas present. This is your time of year for  
giving."

Despite the fact that he'd been sitting for hours, Buckaroo wished there was a chair he  
could sink into. "You don't understand. Besides the fact that we need those plants,  
destroying them kills many of my people and causes immense suffering and devastation.  
We don't yet know the full extent of what you did in the Ukraine, but the area will be  
unlivable for generations. We're not giving you that as a Christmas present!"

"Then we will be forced to take it."

"Now wait a minute. Let's think about this. Haven't you got any other method of  
transportation? Do you have to go through space? What about the eight dimension?"

"If we could enter the eighth dimension, we could leave it at the appropriate place in this  
dimension. But your planet does not have an advanced enough technology, and we have  
no oscillation overthruster."

Buckaroo couldn't believe his ears. "Do you mean to say that if you had an oscillation  
overthruster, you would leave my planet?"

"Yes."

"Well then you are in luck. Your research has failed you again. I have an oscillation  
overthruster, and you can have it."

"You have this device?"

"It's out in the car."

"And you would give it to us?"

"To get you off my planet? Cheap at twice the price. I can make another one. Merry  
Christmas."

Alien excitement and rejoicing certainly looked different than human, Buckaroo  
reflected, observing the peculiar expressions and motions of limbs his announcement  
caused, but then, like with the Lectroids, he probably wasn't observing their real bodies.  
Two Snowflake Girls headed for the door. "Here," Buckaroo called, "you'll need the  
keys." He tossed one of them the keys to the Jet Car.

"Buckaroo Banzai," said the Santa gravely after a few moments. "We thank you. Now  
we must give you a gift. What do you want from Santa, little boy?"

"You, gone, is enough."

"I insist. We must observe the complete exchange of gifts. What would you like from  
Santa?"

"Okay, how about world peace? That would be a great gift."

"Just a moment," said the Santa. One of the Snowflake Girls walked away, vanishing  
into the whiteness.

"I was kidding," Buckaroo said, but then he shut up. Who knew? Maybe they could  
come back with world peace tied up with a big bow.

The two Snowflake Girls who had taken his keys returned with the oscillation  
overthruster. Again there was much movement of limbs and curious facial expressions in  
the group. One of them returned Buckaroo's keys. "Thanks," he said.

The single Snowflake Girl returned from the light, holding in her hand a cassette tape.  
She handed it to the Santa, who handed it to Buckaroo. "Take this. Merry Christmas."

Buckaroo looked at it. It was an unlabeled TDK 90 minute tape. "This is World Peace?  
I haven't heard of that group."

"No," said the Santa, who seemed to have no concept of irony or humor, "on this tape you  
will find a computer code. It is a simple but powerful protocol for the automatic delivery  
of information by the easiest route. Proper application of it via your phone lines or radio  
frequencies will create an immense network for the swift exchange of information  
throughout your entire world."

"And that means world peace?" Buckaroo asked, skeptically.

"Access to information will empower every human on this net. Information can subvert  
oppressors and communication can feed spirits dwelling in wastelands. All ideas are  
instantly available. Eventually you can support this with human thought alone, and  
create a thriving, creative group mind."

Buckaroo looked at the innocuous tape as if he could see all this on it. "What else could  
it do?"

"It can allow the exchange of pornography and a place for people to write each other silly  
Christmas stories."

"Sounds good." Buckaroo pocketed the tape and put his helmet back on. "Thanks. Send  
me a message when you get your ship working. I'll want to know that you're gone."

Buckaroo headed back to his Jet Car. A group mind with human thought as its  
infrastructure. What an idea. Hadn't Penny said something about thought being the most  
powerful thing there is? He couldn't wait to get back and discuss it with her.

Christmas Eve, at the Banzai Institute's Christmas party, Buckaroo could barely get Billy  
away from playing with the new protocol long enough to enjoy some egg nog, let alone  
play a set of Uncle Marty's Christmas Fifth. So he was surprised to look past Penny  
Priddy sitting on his lap to see Billy come in with a piece of paper in his hand. "It's  
addressed to you, Buckaroo. They blasted it on all major VHF and UHF frequencies."

Buckaroo showed the paper to Penny. "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night,"  
it said.

She grinned and kissed him. "So what," she said. "Big deal."

The End.

  



End file.
